


Sacrifice

by Swifters



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifters/pseuds/Swifters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward Chow is pissed and Danny's decided to take the brunt of his rage, much to Steve's annoyance. A whumpy one shot taking place after Season 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot. Danny whump. An experiment of sorts… just for fun, ya know??  
> PP- thanks for the high speed beta. You rock monkey nuts! IC- you MADE me do this (inadvertently, yes, but I’m totally blaming you anyway).

SACRIFICE

“You dumb fuck! You piece of shit! You hit like a girl, you know that?!”

Steve watched in utter horror as Danny, blood dribbling from his mouth and running down his chin, continued to goad the raging lunatic who had them, just like he had from the _second_ the hoods had come off their heads and they’d had their first look at Mr. Edward Chow and the bottomless pit of biblical rage on his face.

Danny had just gone down to his knees for what felt like the hundredth time, helpless to protect himself from Chow’s repeated kicks and punches with his hands bound behind his back. He was swaying alarmingly, knees braced apart, and how he was even still _conscious_ Steve had no clue.

“Danny, stop. Danny, _no!_ Just _shut up_!” Steve implored yet again, but his partner wasn’t hearing, or wasn’t listening… couldn’t be _thinking_ straight, because no _way_ could he take much more without suffering serious long-term damage… or _worse_.

Chow had fixated instantly on Danny and his big, unstoppable mouth, had all but blanked Steve’s subsequent voluminous attempts to draw some of those violent attentions his own way. Steve had been relegated to watching from the side-lines, crouched on his knees, help in place firmly by two goons, one of whom had a gun pressed firmly to his temple, while Danny was taken apart one blow at a time, skin bruising and splitting, bones breaking, ribs cracking. They’d been beating on him for the whole hour Chow and his men had had them, after the take down gone wrong, after the stun guns, after the hoods over their heads, after the long, long drive to fuck knows where, after the wait as they lay cuffed and bound on the floor, the _endless_ wait to find out who… and why….

But Chow didn’t want anything, hadn’t asked them anything, he was just _pissed_ and out for vengeance _._ The team had been hunting down his brother and the man had resisted violently, had gone down in a hail of 5-0 lead three days earlier.  Steve got that, he did, he got the pain of losing someone like that, but this man _had_ to know his kin had been a psychopath, a murderer.

Seemed like it maybe ran in the family.

“Get him up.” Chow growled at his men, and the two that flanked Danny hooked arms under his shoulders and hoisted him back on to his unsteady feet.

Chow cracked his knuckles and grinned wolfishly before sinking his fist into Danny’s solar plexus. As the blond detective folded in pain, Chow’s knee met his chin with a resounding crack, before Danny was hauled upright again. A hand in his hair pulled his face back, revealed the blood now flowing freely from his mouth. Danny groaned, and choked, air just not getting in for a few long, painful seconds… but his head lolled as it was released, eyes closed, mouth finally quiet. Chow pulled back a fist to deliver another blow anyway, plainly not having had his fill of hurting Danny Williams for all he looked to be out cold.

“Stop! He’s had enough!” And Steve’s voice was already hoarse from yelling those same words over and over, from _roaring_ in fury, from begging, from pleading, even as Danny kept on drawing the bastard’s attention away from him over and over again. Not again. Not again because Danny had to be done, he had to be finished this time.

“Oh, you want some too, do you McGarrett?” His name was said with a sneer, and Eddie Chow finally turned to Steve, finally paying him heed now Danny’s cutting mouth had been silenced. A glance back to his goons and Danny was released, flopping bonelessly to the dirt floor of the basement.

Steve’s wide eyes started to take his partner in- the white skin, the blood-sheeted face, the labored breathing- but then his view was blocked by Chow as the man stalked towards him, face twisted in unrelenting anger.

Chow’s hands flexed, then curled into fists once more. Steve eyed them, saw the swelling and the grazes that resulted from the repeated impacts with his partner’s face and body. His lip curled in fury and defiance. “Leave him the _fuck_ alone,” he growled. “I told you, you dumb _fuck_ , now you’re actually listening… _I’m_ in charge, not him, what happened to your brother is _my_ responsibility.”

Steve stuck out his chin, setting the muscles in his abdomen for what would come, nothing but relief washing over him as he finally drew Chow’s attention away from Danny.

“Your b-brother f...freaking cried when I... when I t-took him down, Chow.”

Steve gasped, _shocked_ , as Danny hissed the words into the dirt. His voice was weak and shaky, laden with pain, but the impact on Chow lost nothing for that. Steve could only watch in horror as he rounded on Danny once more and kicked him where he lay, over and over and over again, growling aggressively as he did.

“Stop!! _Please_!” And Steve’s voice broke this time because Danny’s body had gone lax as he rolled helplessly with those repeated impacts and he could _hear_ the sickening crunch of ribs cracking as they were pounded by steel-toe-capped boots. “No, it was _me_ , I keep telling you, _I_ shot your brother.”

Chow _did_ stop, panting hard, looking uncertainly between Steve and Danny’s bloodied body on the floor. He stooped down, grabbed Danny by the neck and hauled him into a position matching Steve’s own, then knelt in front of him, squeezing. Danny’s harsh breaths were the only noise Steve could hear. Rasping and wet, blood bubbling from his mouth in time. Chow moved closer, stared Danny square in the face, searching for contact with the dulled blue of his eyes, just visible through the narrowed, swollen slits. “Is that true? Was it _him_? Did McGarrett do it?” he hissed.

“N-no. W-was me.” Danny choked out.

“Noooo!” Steve yelled out, “Shut up, Danny. Shut the fuck up. It was _me_.”

Chow turned, looked at Steve again, grip slackening on Danny’s neck.

“Died s-screaming l-like a kid.” And Danny spat blood in Chow’s face to follow up his words and that was it. Chow yelled unintelligibly and drew his gun, placed it against Danny’s head.

Then chaos descended. Steve heard the explosion at the door and closed his eyes, knowing what would follow as the bang and flash of a stun grenade ripped into the room. Steve clawed at awareness, trying desperately to hold onto consciousness, fighting the pain in his head and the ringing in his ears.

Through bleary eyes he saw his team enter the room like avenging angels, saw Chin and Kono and Lou and Abby tear through the gang like they were nothing. His eyes slipped over to Danny, bloodied and motionless on the floor. He slammed his eyes shut again, breath hitching, lodging in his throat, choking him. _Fuck_. It was wrong, it was all wrong.

 

……………………………

Steve sat hunched over at Danny’s bedside, his hand resting over his partner’s. His gaze ran over the yellowing bruises on his face, the stitched cuts on his forehead, his cheek. He took in the cast on his right arm, the outline of the swollen knee beneath the crisp white sheet. The bag hanging at the side of the bed, the urine inside still as much red as yellow.

Steve shook his head. “Shit, Danny, _why_?” he murmured.

“Wh-what?” came the tired croak of a response, and Steve nearly jumped because he had thought his partner was sleeping again. It wasn’t really a question he had wanted to ask out loud, not yet when Danny was still so sick. The steady beep of the heart monitor persisted in the drawn-out silence that followed, and Steve continued to take comfort from that, just as he had done for the five days Danny had been unconscious, for the three days he had been drifting in and out, for the two days he had been exhausted and in pain, but stable and aware. And quiet, so very quiet.

Steve froze, eyes fixed on his partner’s as they cracked open, tired blue searching out his gaze then resting there. And Steve didn’t miss the edge of relief in those eyes when Danny finally focused on him.  

“Why what?” Danny asked again.

Steve bit his lip, then shook his head in resignation. “Why did you do it? Why did you keep drawing him back to you?”

Danny stared at him, eyes hazy with drugs. He didn’t answer.

Steve let out a long breath, wondering if he should drop it again, let it wait. But it _had_ to be asked and it had to be answered. He persisted, voice low. “Danny, talk to me. What were you _thinking_? Your tactics were… It just made no sense. We could have bounced him between us, minimized the damage we each sustained that way. Played for time. What were you _thinking_ , taking it all like that?”

Danny shook his head and said nothing, but his sleepy eyes drifted down Steve’s body, coming to a rest right where the scar they both shared was concealed by his shirt.

Steve felt a ripple of shock run through his body. “Danny, I’m fine. Fixed. You know that. You did that for me already.  You already saved me. You don’t have to protect me, I can take a punch. You know that right?”

And Danny’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, realization that he had just inadvertently given away his motives written across his face.

Stomach now churning, Steve huffed out a frustrated breath. “Danny, I mean it. You _already saved me_. You already landing that fucking plane and you already gave me half your fucking liver. That’s enough! That was _months_ ago and it’s _over_. You can stop now and we can go back to being equals in this partnership. Right?”

Danny nodded non-commitally, now staring blearily up at the ceiling.

“Buddy, you know I love you for what you did for me. You _know_ that. But this kind of thing can’t happen. Jesus, Danny, I could have lost you! What the hell would I have said to Grace and Charlie? How could I face them with barely a mark on my body to tell them I’d watched their father get beaten to death?” He was breathing hard now, emotions on a knife edge, because _Jesus._ There was still no response from Danny, and Steve found himself beginning to get royally pissed. “Seriously Danny, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Your meds. You were overdue.” The words came out on a soft exhale, barely audible.

“What?” Steve shook his head in confusion, relevance passing him by. “My meds? My immuno-suppressants? A little maybe. So?”

Danny looked at him again then, and Steve’s jaw dropped open as he saw the lingering fear in those familiar eyes.

“So…? So c-couldn’t… take the risk.”

Steve blinked down at him, fingers gripping Danny’s hand, as fact after fact dawned on him in an unrelenting wave. Danny was _still_ trying to sacrifice himself to keep Steve alive. And that wasn’t going to stop. Ever. Not now. He’d always known Danny would do anything for him, take a bullet for him, but now…  No, Steve shook his head determinedly. “Danny… _partners._ We’re meant to be partners. You’ve got to let me carry my share of the weight if this… if this is gonna work. You’ve _done_ the self-sacrifice thing, and I’m grateful as hell and you got the nice shiny medal for it, but now you… you can’t… you can’t make _allowances_ for me like this.”

Danny shook his head. “S’nothin’ new. Just got your back. Deal with it.”

Steve hung his head low. “Buddy, you’ve got to let _me_ have _your_ back too or you’d be safer with a different partner. You don’t want that, do you?”

When Danny didn’t answer right away, Steve’s stomach clenched even tighter. “Do you? Danny? Do you want me to work with someone else?”

Danny snorted and shook his head. "No. No, I wouldn't want to inflict you on anyone else. You're stuck with me." He huffed out a long breath and his eyes opened wider- he was clearly fighting his meds. His eyes rested on Steve’s. When he spoke his voice was quiet, still weak… but thick with resolve. “But Steve, it doesn’t matter a shit who you’re partnered with. The others would be the same. Like it or not, we’re all gonna be looking out for you now.  So you’re just gonna have to deal with it or get yourself a nice, safe office job.”

Steve looked up abruptly, stared at him in shock. The truth of Danny’s words hit him like a freight train. Suddenly, Steve could hear his heart thundering in his ears. His breath felt tight in his chest. Because this wasn’t really about Danny at all. This was still about _him_. He wasn’t the indestructible hero anymore. He had lost that. He was the one everyone would be covering, everyone would stand in front of. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling violently ill, a huge lump rising in his throat to choke him.

And Danny, bruised and broken in his hospital bed, turned his hand to grab Steve’s, squeezing tight. He rubbed his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, over and over and over again. “It’s okay,” he murmured muzzily. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ve got this. You just need time to adjust, partner. We’ll get there, you and me together.”

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love the potential new dynamics we’ve been handed to think about. This was a small experimental play with them. And yes, I loved the finale. I can forgive the crappy bits for all the amazing bits. Go Danny!!! (and loving all the fix-its- Go FF writers!).


End file.
